


Wherein Minerva McGonagall Has Had Enough

by NeighbourhoodGay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Fix-It of Sorts, I will be adding more tags as I go, Kind of a fix it fic, M/M, Mentor Minerva McGonagall, Mild Language, Minerva has no time for anyone’s bullshit, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus is a depressed mess, Sad Sirius Black, au where Minerva has had Enough, no time shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeighbourhoodGay/pseuds/NeighbourhoodGay
Summary: “I cannot fathom Sirius Blacks betrayal because it makes no sense,” she mutters, “it makes no sense.”OR, Minerva McGonagall steps in and puts the fear of God in to the Wizarding World





	1. Albus Dumbledore is Caught Being A Sneaky Bitch

  
It’s been a year since Lily and James’s deaths. Since their son, Harry, went to live with his god awful muggle relatives. Minerva has done her best to finish her grieving. To mourn her lost students, and still be there for her new students.

  
She had never thought, when she took this job how often it would break her heart. Yet, she lives. And she lives as she always has, hard headed and bold.

  
Minerva takes common comfort in her regular tea’s with Albus. Who usually brings ridiculous treats and has a more than obnoxious habit of talking in riddles.

  
“Have you not stopped mourning?” Albus asks, sparing a glance at the broach on the breast of her robes. A white lily surrounded by a circle of black jewels. It had been her mother’s broach and her mother’s before her. A symbol of mourning.

  
“Forgive me if I don’t quite find myself ready to finish,” says Minerva, her voice almost scathing with the headmaster, “but I lost many dear students in that war. And I will grieve until I see fit to finish grieving.”

  
“You can’t spend your entire life grieving the dead, Minerva,” And Albus doesn’t mean for it to be rude or cruel but Minerva has never taken criticism very well so she glares him down nonetheless.

  
“Who said I only grieved the dead, Albus.” She says coldly, taking a sip of her tea that now tastes like ash in her mouth, “I grieve the living who bear the scars of that war, I grieve the students I lost to an insane man, I grieve the families that will never be whole again.”

  
“I grieve for Molly Weasley who lost her brothers, I grieve for Harry and Neville who will never know the hero’s their parents are, not truly.” she snaps, and now that she’s started she’s found that it’s rather hard to stop herself, “I grieve for Remus Lupin who refuses to allow himself to grieve. I grieve for Sirius Black because I cannot fathom his betrayal and I grieve for Peter and Lily and James who were lost to his betrayal. I grieve and I will continue to do so until I see bloody well fit and if it disturbs you so much, Albus Dumbledore you can find yourself a new head of Gryffindor house and I will grieve in peace.”

  
“I never said it bothered me,”

  
Minerva doesn’t answer this statement, merely takes another sip of her tea, scowling as she realizes it’s gone cold.

Albus stares at Minerva for a long moment.

  
“You can not fathom Sirius Blacks betrayal?”

  
Minerva hisses, can’t seem to concoct any other sound to truly explain her outrage and grief and hysteria.

  
“Of course, I can’t,” she sighs.

  
“And why not?” Asks Albus, “He was a Black, known pure blood fanatics. He’d displayed aggressive behaviour before, he’s never been known to make the best of choices, Minerva.”

  
Minerva stares at Albus for a long, strained moment as she thinks of Sirius Black. She thought of his long messy hair and grey eyes. His lopsided grin and kind heart. She thought of evenings having tea in her office only to be joined by the boy. Who seemed to merely want the company. And of course, Albus couldn’t know. Couldn’t possibly understand her love for that boy as she’d watched him grow into a handsome and kind and brave young man.

  
“Sirius Black,” she says softly, all the outrage gone, left with only heart broken grief, “was a kind boy. Who felt stronger and harder than anyone I know of. He felt passionately. He loved and hated passionately. He was my student and I failed him horribly, it seems.”

  
“You can’t blame yourself, Minerva.”  
Minerva sighs. Thinks again of Sirius Black, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at James Potter. The way he called James’s parents mother and father in a way he had never been able to call his own. She thinks of catching him and Remus Lupin, giggling and pressing kisses to one another’s foreheads like love sick children. She thinks of the way he would look at her when she praised him, as though he’d never thought himself worthy of such kind words.

  
“I cannot fathom Sirius Blacks betrayal because it makes no sense,” she mutters, “it makes _no sense_.”

  
Albus blinks and Minerva sees it, the flash of panic and he knows it makes no sense. He knows.

  
“Because it isn’t true,” she whispers and her outrage is back. Takes over like a spark turned into a forest fire as her rage mounts, “Sirius Black never betrayed Lily and James. He would never betray Lily and James.”

  
“Minerva--“

  
“And you knew,” Minerva snaps, “you knew and you allowed an innocent man, barely out of his fucking teens go to Azkaban, why?! Who the hell are you to decide, Albus.”

  
“That is enough—” And Albus has never once snapped at her, never broken the soft old man routine, not once in the dozens of years they’ve known one another, and it just pushes her further.

  
“No, it is not enough.” She retorts, “you’re right, Albus, I find I’m finished my grieving.” She plucks the broach from her robe, tosses it at Albus’ head, “I think it’s high time I did something instead.”


	2. Sirius Fucked Up

Chapter Two

“He’s a killer,”

  
“I believe I made myself quite clear, Minister,” Minerva McGonagall has taught Cornelius Fudge, she knew him and taught and housed him for eight years. She feels no intimidation for a boy who wept openly when he missed lunch. “I will speak with Sirius Black, with or without your permission.”

  
“And how do you plan to do as such without my permission, Professor?” snaps Cornelius.

  
Minerva says nothing, digs her nails into the armrests of the chair she’s been seated in and raises an eyebrow. This, seems to be enough as she watches Cornelius’ shoulders drop.

  
“He’s a killer, Professor, a cold hearted—”

  
“He was my student first, long before he was ever a killer or a traitor.” Minerva says patiently, “I have unfinished business with him, and I will see to it.”  
They stare one another down before Cornelius finally nods with a sigh.

  
“Fine, fine! But I take no responsibility—”

  
“Of course not, Cornelius, I would never expect so.” Sighs Minerva, waving a hand, “How soon may I speak to him?”  
“Within the next month or so I presume—”

  
“I’ll need it to be sooner than that,” she says, “Will today do? In an hour?”

  
“Today?! An hour?!”

  
“Yes, that’s what I said. My business is urgent and needs to be seen to urgently. I will be at Azkaban prison in exactly one hour to speak to Mr Black.”

  
“That won’t—”

  
“An hour.” She says, getting to her feet and striding out of the room.

 

 

Azkaban prison is somehow worse than Minerva had ever thought it could be.

The second she steps out of the floo she feels her entire body go cold, and suddenly all of her grief is back and stronger than she thought is ever could be. She has to blink several times and clutch her handbag for a moment before she finds she’s capable of breathing again.

  
“Professor,” greets a voice and she turns to be faced with Charles Knightly, one of the few human souls who dared to work at Azkaban.

  
“Mr Knightly,” she greets.

  
“I can’t say you’ll get used to the cold,” smiles the man, blonde hair patchy in places and bundled in multiple sweaters, “but try your best to think of good things.”

  
“I have no idea how you manage this place,” Minerva near whispers, clutching her handbag as Charles begins to lead her through the intricate halls.

  
“Neither do I, most days,” Charles grins, and for a man in such a gruesome place he smiles a lot, “I find that only a certain number of people can handle this place. Helps if you’re good at ignoring your problems,”

  
Minerva snorts as they come to a door.

  
“I’ll be right outside the entire time.” Says Charles kindly, “You need anything, cough twice. He attacks, scream.”

  
Minerva doesn’t argue with him, doesn’t say ‘Sirius would never-‘ because she doesn’t know. This isn’t the boy she knew.

  
Charles opens the cell door, “Oi, up you get—move it, into the corner. Stay there.”

  
He opens the door wider, to allow Minerva inside and she steps past the door and Charles, who closes the door behind her with a sharp clang. The cell is worse than she thought it could be, dirty and grimy, spiders hang from the ceiling and the only piece of comfort seems to be a pile of blankets tucked into the corner, where Sirius Black is sat, with his head down and knees up to his chest. His once long, always neatly brushed hair now a mess of tangles and dirt.

  
There’s a pause where Minerve finds she can barely breath at the sight of Sirius, of her student sitting there looking like a marionette with it’s strings cut. Slowly, as though it pains him, Sirius raises his head.

  
“Professor?” Sirius’ voice comes out like a croak, unused and broken.

  
“Oh, Sirius,” Minerva doesn’t know what it is, the emotion that breaks into her voice. Makes it crack and tears well in her eyes.

  
“What are you doing here?” Sirius asks, eyebrows furrowing as he stares at her. His beard has grown out into a mess of tangles and matts.

  
“I—” Minerva takes a steadying breath, “I need you to tell me what happened that night.”

  
Sirius’ gaze sharpens, he looks every bit a killer in that moment. Sharp grey eyes boring into her, lips downturned into a displeased frown.

  
“I killed them,” he sneers, “is that what you want to hear? I fucked up and now Lily and James are dead—“

  
“You fucked up?” Minerva raises an eyebrow.

  
Sirius huffs, “Never thought I’d hear you swear, professor,”

  
“That’s not what you said, you said you fucked up.” Minerva says, pushing past Sirius’ attempt to distract her, “what do you mean by that, Sirius?”

  
There’s a long, horrible pause as Sirius looks like a fish out of water. Mouth opening and closing frantically.

  
“I—” Sirius croaks, “I fucked up, Professor.”

  
“How?” pushes Minerva, stepping closer and Sirius blinks, pushes back against the wall.

  
“I—” Sirius gasps like he’s been hit, “I told them to make Peter the Secret Keeper. I was too obvious, everyone would know it was me and if—if they threatened Remus or they—“

  
“You couldn’t guarantee their safety.”  
He shakes his head sadly, “I pushed for them to make Peter their Secret Keeper and Dumbledore agreed—I thought—I didn’t think he’d betray us. I never thought—”

  
Sirius breaks into tears, horrible strangled sobs as the tears streak through the dirt caked onto his face.

  
“But Peter’s dead, you killed him, along with multiple muggles.”

  
“No I didn’t,” hisses Sirius, “I realised it was Peter and I went after him and he cornered me—I let the rat corner me and he cut off his own finger to make it look like I bloody killed him,”

  
“Why haven’t you told anyone?” asks Minerva, and Sirius shrugs forlornly.

“Who would believe me?” he asks sadly, “All the evidence points to me, the only thing is my word against a whole lot of evidence. And, anyway I did this,” Sirius sighs, pulling his legs back up against his chest, “this is all my fault in the end, Professor,”

  
He tucks himself deeper into the corner of his cell, looking so much smaller than Minerva had ever seen him. It’s in that moment, as Sirius tucks himself under his arm, pulling at his hair frantically that she knows she’s right.

  
She can’t stop herself then, from lurching forward. She drops her handbag to the ground and wraps her arms around Sirius’ shoulders, pulling him tightly against her chest.

  
“I believe you, Sirius,” she whispers, “And I will get you out of here, I swear it.”

  
There’s a pause where Sirius sits stiff in her arms and then he breaks down into tears. Heart breaking, heaving sobs she’s never once heard from him. Minerva shushes him, runs a hand over his hair as she’s sure it will only get caught in the tangles if she attempts to run her hands through it. Does her best to comfort him.  
“I cannot stay,” she tells him gently, “I’m so sorry Sirius.”

  
“It’s alright Professor,” lies Sirius and she knows it’s a lie, deep in her heart, “It’s okay.”

  
Minerva sighs, gathers her handbag and knocks twice on the cell door.


	3. Someone save Remus the poor gay

Remus’ father had died not long into the war. His mother had died far earlier, just before his graduation. This had left Remus with a small cottage in wales, just on the sea side. He wouldn’t keep it much longer, Minerva knew, he couldn’t afford to. He had been talking with Sirius about selling it, oh so long ago.

She finds herself in the untamed garden of the little cottage. The grass is overgrown and there’s a large number of weeds taking over the stone wall around the garden.

She focuses her eyes on the front door, once bright red paint worn from the weather and slightly peeling.

Knock, knock, knock.

She rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm them against her sudden nerves. She hears a crash, a hissed ‘oh for fucks sakes’ and the muffled sounds of Remus Lupin desperately trying to get his life together to no avail.

The door swings open and there he is. His hair is a mess of unwashed curls and there’s stubble on his chin, a mustard stain on the collar of his shirt. He blinks at Minerva, turns his head away from her and then turns back as though he’d expected her to disappear.

“Professor!” he half shrieks in shock.

“Mr Lupin,” Minerva grins in amusement.

Remus is suddenly bright red in the face as he seems to realize that he’s in what seems to be an unwashed shirt and a pair of bright yellow pants.  
“I’m very sorry about my appearance.”

“I am too, Remus.” She grins and Remus’ face goes even redder, if possible.

“I wasn’t—um, I wasn’t expecting company.” He apologises.

“I can tell,” smiles Minerva, “You get changed, I’ll put the kettle on,”

There’s a pause, before Remus nods, “Kitchens end of the hall,” he croaks before disappearing into the house.

Minerva follows silently, regards the quaint cottage with a smile and it is very much the home of Remus Lupin. He’d never been the neatest boy, unlike Sirius who had naturally kept things in proper places, or even James who’d had an eclectic organizing procedure. There’s books stacked against the walls of the hallway, the odd tea cup left abandoned on a few of the stacks.

  
The kitchen is even more of a mess, books take up most surfaces, including the kitchen table. Some have even taken residence inside of the oven, by the looks of things.

She sighs, dropping her handbag onto the kitchen table. She fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove. While she waits for the water to boil, she sets to the task of finding new homes for the books on the table and chairs, clearing a space for herself and Remus. Once that task is done it’s onto the mission of finding a pair of clean, unchipped tea cups and then preparing the tea. She pulls the package of biscuits from her hand bag and settles into one of the chairs at the table.

  
Remus arrives not long after that. His curls are damp but he’s in cleaner clothes and gives her a bright, if slightly embarrassed smile as he drops into the seat in front of her.

“Hullo Professor,”

“Hello, Remus,”

Remus takes a long sip of his tea, screws up his nose and drops in two more spoonfuls of sugar.

“How are you?” he smiles, always kind and polite.

Minerva smiles, “I’m alright, children at Hogwarts keep me busy, and yourself?”

“Best I can be, I suppose.”

It’s a lie. Minerva can see it in his eyes. Remus Lupin was terrified of his friends leaving him. He’d been terrified of it all his years at Hogwarts. He’d clung to James and Sirius and Peter and eventually Lily like lifelines. She can see it in the unwashed dishes in the sink and the new scars adorning his face, neck and hands.

“How have your transformations been, of late?” she asks finally, and Remus pulls down one of his sleeves over his hand.

“Not—Not great, but they never are, ‘spose,” he grumbles, “Professor, why are you here?”

Minerva takes a slow sip of her tea, helps herself to a biscuit.

“Sirius is innocent.” She says finally.

They’re both silent for a long moment. Minerva dips her biscuit into her tea and glances up at Remus who’s staring at her like she’s thrown a hex at him.

“Sirius Black,” hisses Remus, “Killed Lily, James and Peter and countless muggles—”

“You know that isn’t true.” Says Minerva, “You must Remus, you knew Sirius better than anyone—”

“I thought I did,” snaps Remus, “But the war taught me a lot about myself and my friends. Namely that some of them were never truly friends.” He gets to his feet, toppling his chair back, “I’m sorry Professor, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Minerva regards Remus for a long time. The summer sun from outside casts a bright glow into the kitchen, warm and kind. But in this moment Remus looks startlingly like Sirius, trapped in a prison of his own making.

“Sirius loved you, and you loved him back, once.” She says, not unkindly as she picks up her handbag, “Maybe, you’ll remember that.”

“I wasn’t the one who forgot,” croaks Remus, “Goodbye Professor.”

And with that Remus storms out of the kitchen, she can hear him thunder up the stairs and the sound of a door slam shut. Minerva see’s herself out.


	4. Bellatrix, Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! so i just straight up spat this out just now and decided to post it!  
> Along with this I just wanna know what ya'll think your doing bookmarking and giving this mess of a fic kudos?  
> LMAO anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy!

Chapter Four

Azkaban is boring. It’s mind numbingly, whole heartedly boring. That’s the true punishment, not the reliving of your worst memories, or the constant never ceasing chill. It’s just the pure boredom.

Sirius drops back into the pile of blankets he’s forced to call a bed.

It’s been over a year now, living here. He wishes, prays for a time when he’d had a warm bed and good food. He thinks of James and Lily a lot, though he thinks that’s the dementors. He thinks of little Harry plenty.

He thinks of Remus the most.

If nothing else he regretted what he’d done to Remus. Mourned the loss of his friend and what he’d hoped one day would be his future husband.

He’s sure the dementors are preying on that. On his regret and guilt towards Remus, intensified it tenfold.

So yeah, Azkaban is great fun. There’s the mind numbing boredom, the horrible chill, the depression that seems to constantly lurk around you, drowning you.  
And the cherry on top?

“Siri—”

Bellatrix had the cell next door.

“Bella, I beg of you,” bemoans Sirius, “Shut the fuck up.”

The vents aren’t particularly large, but the sound carries easily between the cells and Bella loves annoying Sirius. It probably distracts her from her slowly fraying mind.

“Oh but Siri, baby cousin, we haven’t spoken in so long—”

“You did this not even an hour ago, Bellatrix, I swear to Merlin—”

“What?” snaps Bella’s voice and Sirius rolls his eyes, “You’ll do what exactly, Sirius? Lock me up and put me in my own personalized prison?!” she lets out a half shriek of a laugh, “You’re too late baby cousin!”

“Bellatr-“

“Black!” Sirius practically flies out of his bed in shock at the voice, turning to the door.

“You’ve another visitor.” Grumbles Charles, “You’re getting popular,”

Sirius grins at Charles, “I do try my hardest,”

Charles rolls his eyes, opening the cell door, “Be right outside,” he tells the silhouette and closes the door behind them.

Remus looks tired. He looks exhausted, deep circles under his eyes and his hair is greasy and sticks up at odd angles. The sweater he’s wearing is an old gift from Lily but the sleeves are frayed now and there’s a hole in the collar.  
There’s a new scar along his jaw, short but deep.

“Remus,” Sirius chokes out, feeling as though someone’s punched him in the stomach.

“Sirius,” nods Remus, he tugs on his sleeve once nervously, then catches himself and tucks his hands behind his back.

“You’re here,” whispers Sirius, “I never—why are you here?”

There’s a long pause as Remus seems to consider the question then tear it apart and dissect it before putting it back together.

“McGonagall says you’re innocent,” says Remus quietly, “Came to my house and decided to tell me she was going to try and get you out of here.”

Sirius takes a shaky breath, “What do you think?”

“I think,” sneers Remus, “That if what she told me is true, then there’s still something I’m missing here.”

“You mean?”

“How did Voldemort find Lily and James, Sirius?” growls Remus darkly, and he very much looks like an intimidating werewolf now. His eyes are dark and he’s tucked his hands nonchalantly into his pockets but every part of him is poised to attack.

“Remu-“

“Tell me.” Snaps Remus.

Sirius takes a shaky breath, tucks his hands into his armpits in a desperate attempt to stop them from shaking.

“We made Peter the secret keeper.” Confesses Sirius, “I was too obvious, too plain to see. So we made Peter the secret keeper but Pete—the rat told Voldemort and—”

“I get it,” snaps Remus, eyes sharp as he paces the room, “But then that leaves one last thing, Sirius.”

Remus moves closer then, crouches down so he’s eye level with Sirius, “You didn’t tell me.” Whispers Remus.

There’s a pause, and Sirius knows what’s going on in Remus’ head. The chanting line of self hate, the whispers of ‘you aren’t good enough and you never were’ going through Remus’ head right then and all he wants to do is lean forward, grab Remus and clutch him to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Remus,” Sirius chokes out instead, “Merlin—”

“Shove it, Sirius.” Snaps Remus, “It’s far too late for that.”

Sirius’ jaw snaps shut with a click and he takes a shuddering breath.

“So what happened to Peter then?” asks Remus coldly, “You said he told Voldemort where Lily and James were but Peter’s dead and you’re here,”  
“Peter faked his death? how exactly?”

“Explosion, chopped off finger, transformed, pissed off.” Explains Sirius shortly.  
Remus sighs, scratching his scalp and then he’s leaning back on his heels.  
“I don’t know what to think here Sirius,” whispers Remus, “And the worst part? Everyone I used to go to, to help me understand this kind of shit? They’re all dead.”

“Remus—”

Remus holds up a hand, taking his own deep, shuddering breath.  
“I’ll look for Peter,” says Remus coolly, “If I find him, and face it I’m the most likely to be able, then and only then will I believe you.”

“But if I don’t find Peter? If this is all a lie you’ve built. I’ll tear your throat out, consequences be damned.”

With that Remus gets to his feet and marches up to the door, knocking loudly twice.

“Remus,” Sirius calls as Charles opens the door and Remus pauses for a moment, “I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause as Remus barely glances at Sirius but nods slowly to himself, “Me too, Sirius.”

There’s a long moment of silence after the cell door closes. Leaving Sirius encased in darkness.

“I know this doesn’t mean much,” Bellatrix’s voice sneers, “But I truly hope he rips your throat out, little cousin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I’m back!!!!  
> So I’m high key a marvel lover but I’ve been having a lot of hp feelings lately. I have two more chapters pretty much ready to go but,,,tell me what y’all think I guess???


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